Chapter Fifty Her

Chapter Fifty Her

Present Day

Do not show fear.

I focused on the order to keep my brain from seizing in panic. A deep inhale and maybe I could push out intelligent words,

something other than the gibberish rushing into my mind.

I looked to my right then left in search of a weapon. Anything to knock that gun out of his hands. “What exactly is the plan

here, Thomas?”

“Get inside.”

Not today. Not ever, actually. This was my house. My yard. I was in control... except for that gun. That was a huge fucking

problem.

“You’re a doctor, not an assassin. Do you think you can make me disappear?” He probably could but the point was to stall.

I needed time. I really needed a mother who cared enough to check on me and look out the window then call the police, but

that wasn’t happening.

“I’m not going to tell you again, Addison.”

Apparently we were on a first-name basis, which didn’t fit with the weapon or the thick layer of desperation pulsing around

him.

“I have thousands of dollars invested in security. I’m being watched by the whole damn town. There is no way for you to come on this property and not be noticed.” Please have him be too far gone to notice the side of the house blocked any view nosy people loitering on the street might have.

His nervous squirming suggested his sole focus was on me. On breaking through and unleashing some twisted revenge for a sin

he’d convinced himself I’d committed.

“I waited to come here until the press left,” he said.

“How enterprising of you.” The buzz of activity at the front gate had provided an unexpected level of protection. Not that

I wanted the daily scrutiny back, but three acres stretched on forever when you needed someone to hear you scream. I could

fight back but I couldn’t outrun a bullet. “Where’s Peter? That’s his car, right?”

“He’s in his garage.”

“You confronted him?” That would kill any innocence claim on Thomas’s part.

“I took his keys.”

“You mean attacked him and stole them.” Peter didn’t hand them over. No way.

“I was careful. Came up from behind. He didn’t see my face.”

Sounded familiar.

“Curled up on the garage floor, he begged me not to go into the house. After all the big talk about taking me down and hiring

lawyers, he pleaded with me . Then he passed out.”

Thomas sounded unhinged in a way that differed from Richmond’s murderous rages. Thomas lacked Richmond’s narcissistic core. Where Richmond’s ego blocked him from seeing his potential downfall, Thomas had clarity. He knew he had something to lose, which made him very dangerous.

“Peter probably thought you were robbing him and he was worried about his wife.” I put my hands on my hips and tried to wriggle

my fingers to touch my back pocket and slip out my cell. Elias liked to come running. This time I needed him to bring the

entire police force with him. “She’s struggling, Thomas. Her son died and—”

“Don’t use that woman’s pain to save yourself.” He took another step, closing the gap between us.

My thumb hit the cell’s screen. I’d read something about an emergency code. Buttons you should hit to call for help without

actually making a sound. I dragged and pressed but I couldn’t see to unlock it, so I had no idea what was happening. That

left me with one choice—more talking while I worked out a solution.

Pots filled with red and orange mums lined the steps to the porch. Perfect for fall. Perfect to throw. Could I bend down and

heave one before he fired off a shot? Didn’t seem likely.

Words spilled out as I did a quick scan for a rake or a hammer or something with more heft than flowers. “Richmond’s surgical

abilities are being questioned. You’ll be questioned.”

“Are you a lawyer now?”

“No, but I think I could be. Doesn’t seem that hard.”

“This conversation is over.” He pointed the gun at me then at the house. “Go.”

Was the plan to shoot me in the kitchen? The house would muffle the sound, but the security video would highlight the rest.

He wasn’t hiding and didn’t know how to dodge the cameras... unless he did. I had so many questions.

“You helped Richmond fake his credentials.”

“Imagine having people tell you all your life that you’re special. That you’re better than everyone else. Combine that with

real talent and a drive to be the best. That defined your husband.” Thomas sycophantic tone and rushed words hinted at excitement.

As if his hero worship survived Richmond’s betrayal and the potential destruction of Thomas’s livelihood.

I needed a replacement bat.

Thomas continued. “You knew him, or maybe you didn’t. I can’t get a read on you, but Richmond wasn’t hard to assess. He enjoyed

being a showman more than a surgical star. He preferred the lecture circuit to time in the operating room.”

The people in Richmond’s orbit never took responsibility. They pontificated while dancing around the sordid truth of their

culpability. “You made it possible for his unchecked ego to continue. You covered for him by filling the room with other competent

doctors and staff and pretending Richmond was the one doing all the work.”

“You saw how people reacted to him. He was larger-than-life. He got the benefit of the doubt. We made concessions because

he had achieved things other people couldn’t dream of doing. When he acted like he was better than the rest of us, we accepted

it because he was.”

The whole defense of Richmond thing... I didn’t get it. He cultivated this image and everyone went along. “He wasn’t. That’s

the whole point.”

“People believed what he said and gave his worst behavior a pass. With every lecture he’d embellish his abilities a little further.” The more Thomas talked, the more enamored he became with his subject. “You let things slide once and then before you know it... they grow and...”

I didn’t hear anything else because of Wyatt. He appeared in my yard. He jogged along the inside of the security wall, out

of Thomas’s direct line of vision. The how and why didn’t make sense but Wyatt’s presence renewed my hope of getting out of this conversation alive.

“Detective Sessions is a gigantic pain, but he’ll figure out you’re behind this. Is the plan to attack me then frame someone

else?” Another familiar strategy. That was one coincidence too many. “Damn, it was you. At the gate. The tree branch.”

“Why are you still talking?”

“You’re the one who hit me. You set August up.” My thoughts and words blended. Wyatt was right behind Thomas. Only feet away.

For once I appreciated his trespassing. “Did you buy August’s cologne and bathe in it so I wouldn’t forget the scent? Because

that’s brilliant.”

“Dr. Linfield.” The only words Wyatt said.

An imperfect distraction but it worked. I grabbed the closest ceramic pot. It was heavier than expected and bulky. Not easy

to throw, so I brought it up in an arc and slammed it into the side of Thomas’s head. A vicious crack of ceramic against bone.

My hands shook and the pot fell. It tumbled to the ground, landing with a thud a second before Thomas’s limp body dropped.

“The gun!” I reached for it and cradled it in both hands. Backed up and somehow stayed on my feet. Fought against the trembling

running through me in case I needed to fire the weapon.

The steam ran out of my panic when Thomas didn’t move. He was down. He wouldn’t get back up for a while.

“You hit him.” Wyatt sounded shocked as he checked for Thomas’s pulse.

I also broke the pot. A split ran up its side.

“The police.” My voice sounded so small and wobbly.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Wyatt stood up and touched my arm. He managed to look confused and concerned at the same time. “I tripped

your alarm at the gate. The police should be on the way.”

“Good thinking.” I exhaled but the adrenaline burn wouldn’t ease. A crash would come, but not yet. “Not to sound ungrateful

but why are you here?”

“I was leaving the Rothmans. Your neighbors. I saw Dr. Linfield drive in and slipped in the gate before it closed.” Wyatt

winced. “I’d seen him here before when he wasn’t supposed to be and—”

“When?”

“I thought the two of you might be working together. That’s why I wanted the police here. It wasn’t until I got closer to

the house that I saw the gun.”

This kid who should be at school was playing amateur detective and could have been hurt. “Your original goal was to catch

me doing something wrong?”

“Yeah, you know, about that. I’m not sure Dad understood you.”

Probably a compliment but not true. “That’s where you’re wrong, Wyatt. We understood each other just fine.”